Slushy street I ran on business, and did not immediately noticed the man, who is humming under his breath, pick a fun smashing the frozen coal pile. It seemed strange that he is on his knees, not too convenient. But looking closer, I notice: the old man is not both shins. He is gaining a bucket of coal and smartly so directed towards the gate. Noticing me, he inquired:
- Lost one, my dear man? Let us help you. And you can see from afar?
Word for word, talking. His name Buev Nikolay Antonovich. Disabled war. In the 43 th Stalingrad ran into a German mine, crippled legs, but doctors have got good, put together piece by piece, so that the soldiers did Buev rose to Victory. And back home in his native Leninsk, he went to work at the mine Kirov. It was zapalschikom, there is a miner`s profession associated with blasting operations. It is clear that the climate in the mine does not benefit the soldier wounds, so that our hero long had to work underground. The S0-m and 63-m amputated his legs.
We know the fate of limbless veterans: in general, a few of them do not ruin oneself by drink. Especially on the outskirts of the Siberian labor camp. Buev not washed down.
- What`s in it, in the bitter? Drink - only a fool leisure. And if you know the measure, then all is well. I still have two sons had to raise this house here built by the well ... You`ll laugh and raise my sons so far. They work on both of my Leninist carpool. For the second year already without pay. And my wife Alexandra Trifonovna too son (my first wife, I`m still in the 82 th buried), for two we have eight grandchildren and three great-grandchildren, help is necessary. At the very least, as a couple we have a thousand rubles retirement.
Our conversation shifted to Bueva house. Here it is, a classic Russian comfort: in the stove crackling fire, rhythmically tapping clocks and gently, soothingly twittering spinning wheel in the hands of Alexandra Trifonovna.
- Listen, - offers Nikolay Antonovich, - is here at menyabanka raskochegarivaetsya, I`ll let her sing ditties! - And pulls out a battered accordion.
Ditty funny and evil. Incidentally, in addition to folk songs, I Bueva from any obscene words are not heard. Strange, because he is from the discharge of the Russian people who, as they say, the soul wide open. These and strong words do not climb.
The pinnacle of our acquaintance has become a treasured notebook with poems Nikolay Antonovich. I must say, poetry is not very. But they - the expression Bueva soul. What is called sincerity, and whether it is not the main goal of the poet? In the notebook a lot of poems about the war, the hometown of the miners. But I wrote one myself, it is called "Dedication":
We lived together, calmly and quietly,
And one another they were committed.
They did not prevent a big family,
And their happy life was to end.
And their kids all grew up,
And it is this go,
Scattered on white light
All of their daughters and sons.
Mother ill, otetszagrustil,
Sam zanemozhil - short lived.
A mother stoskovalas, fell ill in bed,
Few lived and she died.
... And so they went to the land of the century
And their devotion have taken forever.
Professional poet grin on these lines, but many of today`s poets are able to express such purity?
In the plane I thought that`s what. The fate of the villain put man on his knees, having cut his legs. So he lived for almost forty years. Literally on his knees. The path is only one - and gradually stop going to move in a wheelchair. But Bueva not find in the house wheelchair, and throughout the guise of an old man is not even a hint of physical ailment. I think he`s walked briskly Pobol some alcoholics, but for all men limbs.
With what just did not compare Russia, but for me now its image - Nikolai Buev (sorry for some pathos). Even his surname - cheerful, energetic ...